


Foul, fetid, fuming, foggy… filthy.

by Kaesteranya



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're the oldest fifteen-year-olds in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foul, fetid, fuming, foggy… filthy.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the word prompt “broken” over at the KHR Fic Meme; the title was taken from the 31 Days theme for June 9, 2007. Special thanks to Nikki for doing the REAL archiving for all of us~

They would never discuss this in the future, and often go about with their business of rage and revenge and camaraderie via violence without so much as an afterthought to all that it took to bring them to the point they were at. It haunted them instead, through occasional nightmares and brief flashes of memory whenever either one of them spotted the most mundane things: a needle, a white coat, bathroom tiles, leather belts, squished fruits (especially if they happened to be red). Their brains, true to the strange way they were wired, replaced those things with empty doorways, bloody tiles, voices, and piles of limbs that used to be children.

 

Fifteen years old, and both of them knew what it was like to have their spines broken and simultaneously feel someone carving the muscle out of their thighs or forearms with scalpels and without painkillers, or what it was like to drift in and out of drug-induced sleep on a hard floor, too fucked up to really wonder what was going to come next, or to have no sense of time whatsoever and being left to measure it in how many times those faceless sons of bitches poked you with something/forced something down your throat/ran another one of those “tests”. Fifteen and they were older than the ground they walked on, older than all the adults and all the kids and birds and insects and mammals.

 

They spent their lives curled up, just a few inches too short to reach for each other across a broken floor, too far gone to reach out anyway if they had the means. They discarded these lives the moment _he_ came, with his mismatched eyes and Icarus smile.

 

That did not mean, however, that they were ever going to forget.


End file.
